


It's Like a Tornado

by littleblackkitten



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, Depression, Eating Disorders, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Irondad, Like it's stated that Peter is a survivor but there are NO detailed scenes, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Peter is going through it, Self-Harm, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackkitten/pseuds/littleblackkitten
Summary: It's never quiet inside Peter Parker's brain. More than anything, he wants just one moment of silence.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker & Academic Decathlon Team (Spider-Man: Homecoming), Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	1. Infrasound

**Author's Note:**

> So, this piece is really personal for me. I started drafting the idea for this fic when I was in a rough patch last semester, and it's basically become a big vent piece for me to deal with my own OCD and depression, and my experiences with abuse, self-harm, and my eating disorder. So please go easy on it?   
> This doesn't start out happy (it'll get there, I promise), so please take care of yourself in the meantime! If this is making you feel worse, please feel free to exit out of it! Self-care is important, and I care about you all.   
> This fic will include references to abuse by Skip Westcott (as I rule, I refuse to write graphic sexual abuse, EVER), as well as scenes that deal with Peter's OCD, his depression, his eating disorder, and his self-harm. Peter's also going to be working with his own internalized ableism-trying to dismantle the ableism I direct towards myself because of my disorders has been tough, but it's part of the whole personal realm this fic emerged from, and I want to include that in this story, too.

Peter’s only twelve, but he can’t remember a time when it was truly quiet. 

His brain goes miles a minute, and it’s been like that ever since he was a toddler first putting together Legos with Uncle Ben. His thoughts race, and swirl, and spin. Sometimes his brain spins out of control, and those are the worst moments, because he’ll scream without prompting. It had terrified Ben and May the first time it happened, when he was about six. Peter knows it for a fact, even if they won’t say anything about it. He can tell from the way the whole apartment, even the hum of the refrigerator and the slow drip from that one leaky faucet, seem to hold their breath when his mind starts to get loud and drown out all the noise. 

His brain is never silent, but in those moments it is so loud that he feels like his skull is going to explode. The school counselor had asked him once (after having a meltdown in his kindergarten class and gripping his pencil so hard it snapped) if he could maybe just stop thinking so much. And that’s the issue, really. 

Because Peter can’t stop thinking. It’s like breathing, and he can’t stop himself from wondering and questioning and focusing on the world around him. Even if he could, he’s not sure he would want to-after all, his brain may get loud, but without it, how would he do in school? Peter wants to learn so  _ badly _ that sometimes he feels like it physically hurts. Sure, he could be doing the work his classmates are doing, but he’s seen it and it’s boring. 

Yes, it’s a downside that when he starts thinking, really thinking (and not about school or science or starts), that he can’t stop. Sure, his brain starts to cycle, and he feels pressed down and nauseous. And his tongue will start to feel heavy and his limbs light up and he can’t stop talking, out loud now because if he carries the thoughts in his brain if he keeps thinking things he’ll die, something bad will happen it will to May and Ben he needs to save them-

It’s a lot. And it’s not great. But he has ways to fix it, to stop the cycling and to keep May and Ben safe. 

He figured out early on, around eight or so, that if he does these little-routines, he calls them-then things will stay safe, and everyone will be okay. 

He flickers the light switch, and turns the faucets on and off, so that they don’t waste energy and lose money, or that the apartment won’t flood and they won’t drown. When May and Ben go to bed at night, he sneaks out of his room and checks the oven, turning it on and off until he feels like it’s right, that he knows for sure that it’s off and that they won’t die. He taps May’s alarm every night before bed because if he doesn’t, it might not go off and she could lose her job. Sometimes he taps it multiple times (fives are his favorite number to tap in) just to make sure it’ll go off in the morning. He washes his hands, over and over, because he can’t remember if he did and what if there are germs and he gets Ned, his one friend, sick because he was careless? He mutters to himself, under his breath and over and over because the words just don’t feel  _ right,  _ and he doesn’t know why but if he can’t figure it out in time (and time is running out) then something bad will happen. So he repeats himself until it’s passable, and his voice is hoarse. But it’ll be okay, because he does his routines. 

Everything is fine. 

* * *

Ben insists that they take Peter to a doctor after what he’ll refer to two years later as The Shower Incident. 

He’s ten years old, and he’ll be starting middle school in a few weeks. He knows all the other boys are taking showers, and if they had any idea that he was still taking baths, like a  _ baby _ , he would get crucified more than he and Ned already do for simply being, well, them. 

Plus, he heard that taking showers wastes less water than baths, and he can’t help but worry that his daily baths are costing Ben and May too much money, and if they run out of money then they’ll lose the apartment and then they’ll be homeless and-

So, showers, he decides. It’s time, after all. He’s not a kid anymore. 

After dinner is when he usually takes his baths, his homework already done, and so that day he leaves the dinner table just like normal to go into the bathroom. Peter doesn’t tell Ben and May about this-they’ll make a big deal about him growing up, and it makes him feel all weird and awkward when they start to get emotional about it. So he goes into the bathroom just like he always does-he’s old enough to be left alone to run his own bathwater, thankfully-and stares at the shower knobs. He’s a smart kid, so it’s not too hard to figure out how to get the water going. 

Before he steps in, he locks the door-he doesn’t want May and Ben to come in and start asking him what he’s doing and talking about how fast he’s growing up again. It’s embarrassing, honestly. 

The shower itself is fine-it’s really not that much different than a bath, and Peter finds that it’s kind of nice to not be sitting in a pool of rapidly cooling water. He feels almost like an adult, too. Yeah, Ben and May tell him how mature he is for his age, but he doesn’t feel like he’s very mature or independent, especially considering how easy it is for his classmates to just  _ do  _ things and not overthink every single word they say or thing they do. 

The shower’s not the problem. The problem comes when he tries to shut the water off. Peter turns the water off once, and his brain feels like it’s lighting up in danger. It doesn’t feel right, it feels unsettled and wrong and he knows that if he doesn’t shut it off right, then something horrible is going to happen. He turns the water back on and shuts it off again, but it still doesn’t feel right. So he turns it on again, off again, on-again, off-again. 

He gets lost in it, not sure how long he’s been in there and how long he’s been turning those stupid knobs. All he knows is that it’s not right, not yet, and he needs to make it right soon or else the horrible thing will happen and it’ll be all his fault. 

Peter gets so lost in it that he doesn’t hear the banging on the door, doesn’t notice how hot he’s making the water, doesn’t hear Ben and May calling for him or the sound of May frantically picking the lock with a bobby pin. All he knows is that suddenly he’s being dragged out of the shower and it’s still not right! 

He starts to scream as May and Ben wrap him in a towel and Ben rushes to shut the water off, the roughness of the towel finally alerting him to the damage he’s done to his skin. It hurts, and he can see how red his arms are as he tries to scramble out of May’s grip. Ben didn’t turn the water off right, he needs to fix it before the horrible thing happens! 

But May won’t let him go, she’s holding him tight and he can’t move, and Peter can’t help but cry, even though he knows how much of a baby that makes him. Flash went on and on for months about how he didn’t cry at all when he broke his arm last year. He’s crying because he’s anxious, because he’s going to be the reason  _ why  _ something bad is going to happen, but what’s also appearing is a deep sense of exhaustion. 

He’s tired of living like this. He’s tired of worrying, and counting, and tapping, and feeling like everything is so tight in his chest that he’s not able to breathe. 

He’s just so tired. 

* * *

They take Peter to a pediatrician the next day after The Shower Incident, and his doctor promptly writes down a list of the top five therapists in the area. When she shows May and Ben the list, Peter is still wearing a hospital gown and his glasses are still off, but he knows without a doubt that the two of them are wincing as Dr. Farrish goes on and on about how fantastic they are, and that she’ll call in a favor to get them in soon, to help them cut the waiting list. 

Peter is only ten, and he knows that waiting lists mean money, and while Ben and May be full of love and support, they aren’t exactly overflowing with cash. That doesn’t stop the two of them from setting up an appointment with the first therapist on the list, a Dr. Dyle, even with his trying to convince them that what happened was a one-time thing. The idea of talking to someone is making his skin crawl. He’s never told anyone about his tornado thoughts, not even Ben and May. He doesn’t want to let anyone else see. 

Peter puts all of his effort into getting out of the appointment, and he can see how frustrating it is for May and Ben. But he doesn’t let up on it, even during the subway ride to his first visit. Only when they get into the waiting room of the office does he go quiet. 

“I don’t want to do this,” he murmurs, staring at his shoes as Ben fills out the clipboard that the mean-looking secretary had given him in exchange for fifty whole dollars. His uncle stops writing, and Peter can feel his eyes on him. 

“Pete, kiddo, you have to. I know it might feel weird, and I know you don’t want to. I wish you didn’t have to be going through this, and I hate making you do something that’s making you so anxious. But Peter, you need to talk to someone,” Ben says softly. 

“You don’t have to make me do this. We could just leave. I won’t tell May,” Peter suggests, and Ben snorts at the suggestion. 

“I think May would find out, kiddo. I know you don’t want to, but it’s my responsibility to take care of you, even if you don’t like it,” Ben says, carding his fingers lightly through Peter’s curls. 

“Do you ever wish it wasn’t?” The words slip out of Peter’s mouth before he can even think about what he’s asking, because as messed up as he knows it is, sometimes he wonders if his aunt and uncle resent that they have to take care of him. They didn’t sign up to be parents-he was just pushed into their lives. 

“Never. It’s a privilege to have the responsibility of raising you, Peter. I can’t stress that enough,” Ben says, looking at him intently. He looks more serious than Peter’s even seen, and he wants to curl up into his uncle’s side and not have to talk to this Dr. Dyle, but he knows that Ben needs him to be brave. He’s already putting him and May through so much, he can make the responsibility of having to be surrogate parents at least a little easier. 

* * *

It’s not that Dr. Dyle isn’t nice. He is; he’s friendly and patient and willing to listen to what Peter has to say. But Peter is eleven now, and he hates going, hates the idea that he’s weird, hates the idea that the man is going to see through him and realize that Peter has something wrong with him, something that makes his brain so loud that he can’t even breathe. He’s going to see all of the thoughts that pop in his head, the ones that scare him, and then Peter’s going to get locked away. He’s heard enough from his classmates and in the halls of his middle school to know that he’s not normal, that not being normal is the same as being dangerous. That’s the last thing he wants to be. 

So Peter doesn’t open up. Sure, he talks, but he doesn’t talk about The Shower Incident or the tornados or how his brain is so loud it’s deafening. He talks a little about his parents and being picked on at school, because those are easy things to understand, easy things to use as a coverup. He’s had enough teachers treat him like a particularly fragile teacup to know that they see Peter Parker as a tragedy. He thinks for a while that Dr. Dyle is buying it, that May and Ben are buying it. 

Then Ben walks into his room to see him carefully picking the skin of his thumb up with a safety pin, and Peter isn’t seeing Dr. Dyle anymore. He goes to the next therapist on the list, Dr. Nancy, and she’s a definite change from Dr. Dyle. She gets him to talk, but he’s on edge each session, afraid of disappointing her and the way she pushes at him relentlessly. After he leaves a session in tears and can’t stop crying for the entire night, May refuses to take him back to her. 

So then it’s on to therapist #3, who only refers to herself as Kate. After Dr. Nancy, she’s a breath of fresh air. Kate is cool; she seems to understand that there’s some hesitation in him, something that he’s not saying. But she doesn’t push, she lets him talk about Ned and his first year of middle school and his upcoming exams. For his twelfth birthday, she gives him a cupcake at the end of their session. 

He makes some progress with Kate, and he can tell that May and Ben are relieved. He flickers the lights on and off sometimes, and it can take him a long time for his sentences to feel right, but he’s not tearing himself apart or scalding himself in the shower. He’s working on lowering his tapping. Peter’s head is still loud, but he’s starting to realize with Kate that maybe he can lower the volume. 

Then Kate’s partner gets a job across the country, and Kate leaves when Peter’s away on a weekend trip for May’s family reunion. She doesn’t tell Peter-they only find it out when Ben calls to schedule their next appointment, and the secretary gives them the bad news. 

Ben and May try to get in contact with a new therapist. They go to the fourth on the list, but they’re no longer accepting patients, and the fifth therapist tells them outright at his intake appointment that she won’t see him unless May and Ben get a psychiatrist to put him on medication. Peter isn’t personally too bothered about not seeing the last therapist (she smelled like rotten tomatoes), but May and Ben are furious with how she wrote him off. 

At that point, they’ve run through the list Dr. Farrish wrote, and they have to start looking on their own. Finding a therapist, a good therapist, isn’t easy, but finding one with no recommendations or way to cut the waiting list is even harder. It’s stressing Ben and May out, and Peter wishes he could help, take on some of the work himself, but he’s getting bad again. 

He hot-glued his thumb and pointer fingers together the week before in art, and everyone had laughed when tears gathered in his eyes. It didn’t matter to his classmates that it hurt-seventh graders were just mean. 

Ben had picked him up, completely frantic when he heard what happened, but Peter couldn’t explain exactly why he did it. The image of burning the skin off his hand had popped into his head, burning someone else, and it terrified him. How could he explain that he did what he did to make it go away? He would sound crazy. 

He’s back to his tapping, but it’s even worse now, it’s constant and his fingers cramp up. He can’t sleep, because he keeps getting up to check the fridge, the oven, the locks, the alarms. He has to bite his lip to keep from repeating the same things over and over again, and it’s constantly scabbed now. When he can’t get his head to be quiet, he rips the scabs off and watches the blood drip down his chin. 

He’s washing his hands, constantly, so much that they bleed. When Ned walks in on him in the school bathroom, looking for him when he left from history class, he stared at Peter, and he wanted to scream at his best friend to leave. 

Peter is so anxious all the time, and he can’t eat. He wants to, he’s so hungry, but something is stopping him, making him sick to his stomach. He’s afraid if he takes a bite during lunch he’ll throw up all over the table that he and Ned have to themselves at the back of the cafeteria. He starts to lose weight, and it’s back to the doctor when he starts throwing up at school in the morning. He’s not trying to, but he’s so  _ hungry _ . It’s the exact opposite of what he wants-Peter, as always, is beyond smart, and knows that he needs to keep what little calories he’s getting in, but it’s like the acid in his stomach is constantly pushing at him, and then he gets so nauseous. 

Dr. Farrish suggests an eating disorder, but Peter knows that’s not it. He doesn’t want to be thin, he wants to not be afraid. Everything and anything he does, unless he does it perfectly, could cause something bad, something catastrophic. He has to prevent it. But Peter is so tired of carrying that responsibility. 

Peter says something to that effect, and Dr. Farrish prescribes him a low dose of Zoloft. Ben is concerned about giving medication to him at such a young age (he and May argue about it, and the walls in their apartment aren’t exactly thin), but at the end of the day, Peter starts taking the pills. 

He’s diagnosed with having moderate depression. Peter isn’t sure he agrees. He’s tired of living like this, sure, and sometimes he’s so frustrated about who he is and how long and painful the days are that he doesn’t want to do anything, not to build Legos with Ned, not to eat, not to even use the bathroom. But he’s not depressed-he’s just a worrier. A perfectionist. 

Still, the pills help, so if it means taking the diagnosis to get them, he’ll use it. They don’t fix everything, but they do make his brain a little slower, a little foggier. It can still get loud, but there are moments of peace. Sure, those moments of peace make him feel like a zombie, but he’ll take what he can get. 

Thankfully, he can pull it together well enough to keep up his grades and spend time with Ned, who he knows has been getting the short end of the stick since essentially the entire time he’s been friends with Peter. He feels bad that he’s a burden to his friend, but Ned refuses to do better, and Peter knows without a doubt that he’s selfish enough to latch on to one of the few people who truly gets him. 

So, things are going better. He’s still not seeing a therapist, and he’s not doing as well as he did with Kate, but it’s manageable. Peter thinks that maybe he could make this work. 

* * *

And of course, things come crashing down again. In January, Ben loses his job at the bank, having taken too many sick days and leaving too many shifts early to take care of Peter. Ben assures him that they’ll be fine, and that he needed the change, but Peter knows he’s lying. 

They aren’t in the position financially to only have May working. If he wasn’t such a freak, Ben wouldn’t have gotten fired-it’s all his fault, and he knows it. The apartment gets a little tenser, and while it’s nice to see Ben after school, Peter feels so guilty that he wants to sleep and never wake up. 

Ben and May argue more, they get rid of cable and stop visiting their favorite Thai shop every week. Dinners get smaller and they lower the heat to save electricity. Peter never says a word, but he’s cold, and he’s hungry. He’s tired at school and focusing on his work is difficult when he could eat double the portions he’s getting. He needs a new coat, especially with it getting closer to winter weather, but Peter knows they don’t have the money for it, so his thin, worn one will just have to last another year. 

Ned, wonderful, amazing Ned, seems to pick up on it, and starts bringing extra lunch and “accidentally” leaving his hoodies at the apartment when he comes over. If it wasn’t for Ned, Peter isn’t sure what he would do. 

Eventually, Ben manages to find a job, at a convenience store oddly close to Dr. Dyle’s office. It’s a job, and it’s money, but he’s simply not making as much as he did at his old job, even though he’s working more hours. His hours, too, are an issue. He’s the newest employee, and he gets stuck with the night shifts. 

It’s an obvious problem. Ben used to pick Peter up after band or robotics club when he got off his shift from the bank, but he’s going into work when Peter is getting out, and May doesn’t leave the hospital until six. Peter begs to be allowed to use the subway, but his aunt and uncle refuse to let him. 

“Predators can be anywhere, Peter, and they’re looking for kids who are alone. Putting you on the subway by yourself is putting you at risk,” May explains, and Peter can see suddenly how tired this ordeal, the ordeal of having to be a mother to a kid who just doesn’t  _ work  _ right, is taking a toll on her. 

It’s Ned who suggests that Peter wait at the library for May to pick him up every day. (He offered to let Peter come over after school for as long as he needed, but he can’t do that every day. He can’t be a burden to Ned.) Ben and May still aren’t happy with the idea, but they admit it’s better that he be alone in the library than alone on the subway. 

So in March, Peter starts his new routine. He wakes up, takes his medication, tries to avoid checking over and over again to see if he has all of his things before Ben takes him to school, gets through the day, eats lunch with Ned, finishes the day with gym (always the worst), goes to either band or robotics, and then goes to the library a block from his middle school. He reads until May can pick him up, and then he goes home, eats dinner, and thinks of Ben as he goes to sleep. Wake up, repeat. His brain is still loud-no surprise there. But he doesn’t have a choice to do anything but just get through it and hope it’ll get better. 

Peter is twelve, and he’s never known true quiet, but he’s trying to live with that. He hopes, more than anything, that he can keep things under control, that he can be okay. For a while, he thinks that he can. 

That’s when he meets Skip Westcott. 


	2. Intuition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves-it's been a wild time since the last update, thank you for being patient and for the kudos and comments! My spring break got extended and I'm now home from college because we switched to online classes. As always, please, please take care of yourself when reading this fic, especially now. The world is a scary place right now, so please take care of yourself and practice self-love and care!  
> We're starting to get into the parts of the story where Skip is around, so please keep that in mind. Peter's not going to be okay for a while (but he will get there, I promise). On the plus side, there's some wholesome Ned energy in this chapter, so small wins? Also I was talking to my mom about when I was younger about how much I used to repeat my sentences and phrases, and I was shocked by how much I apparently did it. My memory is holey, friends.

When Peter will think about it years later, he won’t be able to think of that meeting without wanting to scream at his younger self to get away, to escape. To pay attention to the signs that he only could see later were big, glaring signs of danger. 

Hindsight, unfortunately, is a bitch. 

* * *

Peter stared at the cheap reader that his teacher had passed out that day, wondering to himself why exactly his teacher has chosen Romeo and Juliet of all plays to read this unit. The seventh grade class always got to read Macbeth, which seemed infinitely more interesting with witches and murder. He’d never been a particularly bloodthirsty kid, but sword fights and deceit were closer to superhero battles than two teens in love. 

Frankly, the play was boring, and he was only a few pages in and was completely lost. He had a rough idea of what was going on, but there was definitely something he wasn’t picking up on. Shakespeare was supposed to be deep and complicated, full of deeper meaning, right? He wanted to just stop reading, but this was the last of his homework, and he wanted to get it done before he went home. Aunt May promised that they could have a movie night if he got all his work done, and he’d been looking forward to it all day. 

Even worse, as he was reading none of the words were sinking in. He had been reading the same lines over and over, hoping to get something from it, but as soon as he finished the page something would distract him, and he had to start over again because the thought wasn’t right, the reading wasn’t complete unless he read it perfectly. What if he had missed something? It was getting frustrating, and he started biting at the edge of his nails to make his mind shut up and just absorb Romeo’s teenage angst. 

He was so focused that he didn't realize that someone was staring at him, until they approached him and leaned over his shoulder. 

“Romeo and Juliet, huh?” Peter jumped as the voice hit his ear, the hot breath making the hair on his arms stand up. He turned around to see an older boy in a green uniform backing up, his arms up in a placating gesture and an apologetic smile on his face. 

“Sorry, kid, just wanted to see what you were reading, no need to panic,” the boy said, and Peter felt himself slightly relax. 

“It’s okay, but just maybe don’t do that to someone next time,” Peter said slowly, still feeling somewhat weird about what just happened. He wasn’t sure if it was just his brain doing its usual bullshit or if it was the surprise of a stranger reading over his shoulder, but he felt the urge to say his sentence again, because something felt off balance and he needed to fix it. But he couldn’t, so he tapped his fingers on his thighs and bit his lip and prayed that the boy wouldn’t notice. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, you looked so invested. Reading Shakespeare, that’s impressive!” Peter shrugged and looked at the boy closely. 

He had white blond hair, and a confident smile. He was about a foot taller than Peter, and fairly muscular compared to his own rather skinny arms. The uniform he was wearing was really nice, definitely made from a rich fabric. Peter realized he had been staring for too long than was acceptable, and looked away.

“Well, they usually give out Shakespeare in seventh grade, at least in my school, so it’s not too impressive, we all have to do it,” he explained. 

“I doubt anyone else is actually reading it, kid. I know I didn’t when I was your age-I couldn’t understand it. You must be really smart and dedicated, huh, to be putting that work in?” The boy grinned, sitting down next to Peter, who could feel his face getting warm. 

Other than Ned, May, and Ben, not many people complimented him on his intelligence. His teachers had to give him a lot of busy work to keep him from getting bored, and his classmates certainly didn’t like it. An older boy, a cute older boy at that, complimenting him? It made his stomach feel all weird. 

“I try,” Peter replied, trying to sound casual. “I’m not super good at English, though. If it was Macbeth, it would be more interesting, but this is boring and just kind of frustrating to get through.” 

“I’m still not the best at English either, but lucky for you, Einstein, I’ve learned a thing or two since I read the play; I could help you out?” The nickname definitely had made his face pink, he could just tell. 

“That would be nice, but-I don’t even know your name,” Peter said shyly. 

“It’s Steven Wescott, but I go by Skip. And you?” Skip looked at him expectantly. 

“Uh-Peter. Peter Parker.” Skip stuck out his hand to shake it, and Peter took it, ignoring the unease that seemed to arise in his chest when they touched hands. 

“Well, Peter Parker, I think we’re going to be  _ great  _ friends!” 

* * *

“You certainly look happy,” May remarked, noting the shy, pleased grin that was on Peter’s face the entire subway ride. Peter shrugged as his aunt unlocked their apartment door, taking his shoes off and dashing to his room to put away his backpack and jacket. He had to do it under forty five seconds, or else he would start to feel anxious. 

“It was a good day,” he yelled out, checking the contents of his backpack for his calculator, his planner, and his completed homework. He hadn’t been able to do his checking routine in the library, where he zipped and unzipped his bag to make sure that he had all of his supplies and all of his work to take home with him. He couldn’t-Skip had been there, and he hadn’t wanted to look weird in front of one of the few people over the years who seemed like they actually wanted to get to know him. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, expecting to see a text from Ned. 

_ Skip: It was nice talking to you Einstein!  _

_ Skip: See you at the library tomorrow? _

Peter stared down at the screen, looking at the messages in surprise. He hadn’t thought that Skip was actually going to text him, even when he had asked for his number. Did he respond? What if he said something that made the older boy hate him? What if he weirded him out? Sure, he’d be back at the library, but he didn’t want Skip to think he had to spend time with him-he had mentioned that he went to the library while he was waiting to get picked up. 

“Peter? Peter!” His head shot up to see May looking at him curiously from his door. “You okay kiddo?” Peter nodded, putting his phone in his pocket and grabbing one of Ned’s hoodies. They smelled faintly like his best friend, which always calmed him down. 

“Just texting Ned. What are we having for dinner? Having for dinner? What are we having for dinner?” He asked, frustrated because the words felt wrong coming up out of his throat, like they were stuck and going to make him choke if he couldn’t get it all out. At least here, he didn’t have to shove it down, even though he always felt bad for the frowns it put on Ben and May’s faces. 

May, thankfully, didn’t say anything more about his messages to “Ned”, just smiled her usual slightly-worried-but-I-don’t-want-to-show-it-smile.

“Hmm...well, it is a movie night, so you know what that means,” she said slyly, turning away from his small room and heading towards their small kitchen. Peter followed her, sticking his head past the kitchen’s door frame to see his aunt preheating the oven. 

“Pizza, naturally, I should have known,” he smiled, tapping his back pocket multiple times as he tried to squash down his worry of how to respond to Skip. He couldn’t leave him on read, but he didn’t want to respond too soon and look desperate. That would be even worse. “You didn’t want to make your famous tuna casserole?” May swatted the back of his head lightly with a dish towel, muttering about sarcastic teens.

He chatted with May easily, only getting caught on a couple of sentences as they both shared about their day. The spaces where their conversation lulled were a bit noticeable, but at this point both Peter and May were used to not hearing Ben’s voice at dinnertime. Still, it always felt odd. Luckily, when Peter was feeling comfortable he could talk enough for all three of them combined, so he pushed through the quieter points as he brought up Ned and the new girl, MJ, who was really cool but also kind of scary. 

For a while, it was easy to push Skip and the entire afternoon out of his mind. As they settled down to watch Harry Potter, it felt almost like any other movie night that he and his aunt had had, until May paused the movie right before Harry first snuck out to Hogsmeade. At first, Peter thought she was going to get more pizza, but she turned to look at him, her face serious but fond. 

“Peter honey? I just wanted to say, I know this has been hard, this whole adjustment with Ben getting his new job and you having to wait after school for me to pick you up, especially with everything else you have going on. But you’ve been doing so much better, baby, it’s so remarkable, and it’s really helped us all out that you’ve gotten back to your happy self,” she said, kissing the top of his head and making him laugh when she messed up his hair. 

“Thanks, May. I larb you,” he joked, ignoring the last part of his aunt’s comment. He knew she was just happy he was doing better, but it still kind of hurt to hear that she was so pleased she had gotten him back. He knew he had been difficult to deal with, more than anyone else was he aware, but that didn’t mean he liked to hear it. 

“I larb you too, kid. Just let us know if things are starting to get bad again, okay?” Peter nodded, but he made the instant decision to never take her up on that. He felt bad enough having put May and Ben through that once, he wasn’t going to do that again and have them lose him another time to his brain. He would just deal with things on his own if they got bad again; he was doing better though, so it would be fine. He wasn’t feeling amazing, sure, but had he ever?

As his aunt laughed about Draco getting hit with snowballs, he couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty about the earlier lie he had told about Ned. He hadn’t meant to, honestly, and he was sure May would have loved Skip if she had met him, but he didn’t want her to overreact about stranger danger or something. Skip wasn’t some killer in an alleyway, he was just a really cool older kid who had told him all about his life and how cool high school was. She definitely wouldn’t be okay with him giving his phone number to anyone that soon, even if she had met him. 

Part of him had wanted to ask how he should respond to the text, but he didn’t want to be any more of a problem than he already was. He just wouldn’t go to the library, not for a little while, at least. If he wasn’t there, then he wouldn’t have to deal with keeping something from May and Ben, and he wouldn’t have to figure out how to act normal. It was for the best. 

* * *

Peter shut his phone off and didn’t turn it on again, even on his subway ride to school with Ben. He felt weird (weirder than normal, anyway), thinking of the unanswered texts in his phone, and he could only give Ben a few words at a time when his uncle tried to talk to him about some people who had come into the store last night. As his uncle tried to chat with him, Peter went over and over again in his head everything Skip had said the day before, tracing over every response he had made and wondering just how stupid, how annoying he must have sounded. The more he thought, the more that his body felt like a piece of string getting pulled tighter and tighter, getting closer to finally snapping. 

Maybe he should have responded to Skip. But he  _ definitely  _ would have screwed it up. Yeah, it wasn’t polite to leave someone unanswered, but it would be way worse for Skip to have to deal with his annoying texts. And what if he sent something accidentally? Like when he asked May to pick up his medication or when he texted Ned about Legos, and if he sent it and Skip saw it, well he would never want to talk to him again not ever he would be so annoying and Skip would tell probably everyone- 

He should have skipped school today. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and try to get his stomach to ease from the knot it was in right now. He knew if he stopped rehashing every part of his conversation, and tried to focus on Ben’s voice, it would help. Kate had taught him that. But what if he had said something crazy? If he trapped the words now in his head, then he could be in charge of them later, right? 

He didn’t even realize that they needed to get off the subway until Ben nudged his shoulder, a slightly concerned look in his eyes. Face red, Peter followed his uncle off and out of the station, going up the stairs and walking the block to Midtown Middle School in silence. He was about to go in, before Ben touched his shoulder. 

“If you need to come home today, Peter, just let us know, okay?” Peter nodded, feeling the guilt grow larger in his stomach. He wished he could feel pleased that his uncle knew him so well, but he can’t help but think of how he was the reason Ben had lost his job months earlier. Sure, he didn’t work during the day now, but if he saw him curl up in the fetal position yet again, there’s no doubt in Peter’s mind that Ben would skip his shift and take care of him. 

“Okay. I’m fine though. I think I’m gonna hang out with Ned after practice if that’s okay?” Ben’s face relaxed somewhat; everyone knew that Ned was simply good for Peter. 

“Just let May know, okay kiddo? Have a good day at school!” He added on, giving him a dramatic, embarrassing kiss on the forehead, just to tease him. Peter made an offhand remark as he went in, but he didn’t really mind it. It makes him feel like maybe Ben wasn’t lying, in Dr. Dyle’s waiting room. Maybe, unlike May, he didn’t mind the responsibility of taking care of him. 

* * *

“Thanks for the snacks, Mom!” Ned yelled out, lying on his back, still giggling at Peter’s impression of Flash. 

“Dude, your mom is the best,” Peter said solemnly, looking carefully at the small mountain of candy that she had put in a bowl for them. 

“She’s trying to get you to fall in love with me, so she’s bribing you with Filipino candy. That, and Emmy has a cavity, so Mom wants to clean shop,” Ned said matter of factly, and his serious tone made Peter snort, almost choking on his candy. 

“If she wants me to fall in love with you, she should make Nilagang Baka,” he called out hopefully, laughing at the shove Ned gave his shoulder. 

“Peter, I hate cabbage, it makes the place stink,” Ned whined, and Peter shrugged his shoulders. 

“I drive a hard bargain.” Ned rolled his eyes, sitting up to grab his backpack and pulling out the homework they were assigned that day. 

“C’mon, hard bargain. She may be nice to you, but if I don’t finish this before you leave she’s going to take away my Wii privileges again,” Ned sighed, grabbing his own copy of Romeo and Juliet from the top of the pile. “If she had to read this, though, then I bet she would be more lenient. It’s so boring!” Peter glanced at it and his mood instantly soured as he pulled out his own copy. 

The two boys were silent as they went through their reading, and Peter started to look over the newest part of the play. He couldn’t help but think of the way Skip had read some of Romeo’s lines, talked about Romeo’s desire and how the impulsivity that Peter originally found annoying was one of his strengths. 

_ “You wouldn’t love someone who’s boring and does what he’s told all the time, right?” _ Peter had stayed silent, thinking of how much he related to that description.  _ “He throws away reason for love, even when the entire world is telling him not to. Sure, he’s impulsive, but his being impulsive is what makes the story so powerful-imagine, having a love so strong that you would throw away everything that you had.”  _

Peter isn’t sure that he’d like that kind of love. It’s no secret how the play ends. Romeo dies, and it’s tragic and beautiful, according to his teacher, but what about Romeo’s friends, his family? How can any kind of love be worth dying for, if it means Romeo is going to hurt everyone else in his life?

Is love that deadly even love?

“Peter? You okay?” Peter looked up to see Ned staring at him, concern written on his face. Unlike Ben, Ned isn’t able to keep his worry just in his eyes-he’s far more of an open book. He looked down at his hands to see that his fingers are tinged with flecks of blood. As if waiting for him to realize it, his ankle sent out pain signals, and he can see that he’s scratched the skin peeking out above his sock raw. 

He yanked his sock up, ignoring the blood that quickly started to seep through. 

“Ugh, Peter, that’s gross, let me get a band-aid at least, okay?” Ned got up and left the room, no doubt to dig in the bathroom for a band-aid. 

Peter watched his blood stain the white of his sock, almost hypnotized. 

_ Skip: Where are you, Einstein? I’ve looked all over the library for you.  _

Peter looked over at his buzzing phone, regretting not turning it off after he had texted May about his after school plans. Ned came back to see him staring at it. 

“Who’re you texting, dude? I’m right here,” Ned said, trying for a joke as he comes back into his bedroom. “All we have are Hello Kitty band-aids, I hope that’s okay.” 

“Thanks,” Peter muttered, placing the bandaid on his ankle. “Thanks, thank you,” he managed to get out. He was somewhat surprised about how badly he managed to hurt himself, considering how bloody his sock had gotten. 

Ned didn’t say anything at first, just watched him as he crumpled the band-aid wrapper and threw it in the trash. It’s when he picked up his copy of the play that his friend spoke up. 

“Dude, we need to talk about that,” he exclaimed, looking at his friend in disbelief. 

“It’s fine, Ned, it was an accident.”

“An  _ accident?!  _ Peter, you haven’t done anything like that since before you got on your medication. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, Ned, leave it alone.” Peter knew Ned was just trying to be a good friend, but he didn’t want to think about what this meant. It wasn’t like he hurt himself intentionally like he used to. He wasn’t trying to get his mind to stop, it just...happened. He was zoning out, stuff like that happened all the time to other people, right? Some people would sleepwalk and drive, this wasn’t that different. 

“I’m not going to, dude, I’m concerned-”

“Ned, just leave it alone!” Peter wasn’t the kind of person to yell, but his voice was sharp and tight, tense enough for his friend to go quiet, and enough for Peter to instantly feel guilty. “I’m sorry, I’m just feeling-weird, I guess. I don’t know.” 

“Is it about the text you got?” Ned asked after a few seconds of tense silence. Ned, fantastic person that he was and far better of a friend than he deserved, was always forgiving Peter, even when he didn't deserve it.

Especially when he didn’t deserve it. 

“Look-you can’t tell Ben and May, or your parents, okay?” Ned perked up, always excited to hear a secret or some gossip. 

“I swear on the Hulk, dude. What’s up?” Peter peered out of Ned’s door (Emmy had always loved eavesdropping) and shut the door. “Oh man, this must be good if you’re going against Open Door Protocol,” Ned said, eyes widening. 

“I don’t even get why your Mom started that rule,” Peter grumbled, but focusing on the matter at hand. “So, last night I was in the library, right, just like usual. And I was reading Romeo and Juliet and all of a sudden I realized someone was behind me, and I turned around and it was this older kid.” Ned’s mouth dropped in surprise. 

“You mean he was like, watching you? Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay! He wasn’t watching me, he was reading the play over my shoulder. He introduced himself and we ended up talking until May picked me up. He was really cool.” Peter looked up to see Ned’s thinking face. “What?”

“I mean, don’t you think it’s kind of weird that he was just reading behind you?” Peter frowned. 

“I don’t know. I guess it was a little weird, but if he wanted to like, murder me or something I figure he would have done it already, y’know?” Ned shrugged, clearly agreeing on that point but still looking skeptical. “Ned, I wouldn’t talk to someone, talk to someone who I was getting any bad vibes from, I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were!” Ned exclaimed, but Peter kept talking. 

“And Ned, he’s so cool. He’s from Manhattan, and he goes to Trinity! He’s on their Senate and he does soccer, and track,  _ and  _ lacrosse, he’s on their Senate and he does soccer, lacrosse, track, he’s-he’s really sporty, okay? He’s already confident he’s going to go to MIT. And I’m just worried, I guess, because he’s been just texting me and I don’t want to sound stupid, and ruin it like I did with Harry when we were kids-” Ned snorted. 

“First off, Peter, you didn’t ruin your friendship with Harry, his dad was just nuts and hated all of us. It’s not your fault that he drifted apart. And secondly-how old is this kid, Peter?” Peter stopped talking, trying to think if Skip had mentioned his age. “Okay, we’re looking him up, what’s his name?” 

“What?” Ned had grabbed his laptop and was already working by the time Peter scrambled next to him. “What are you doing?!” 

In front of him, Ned had pulled up what looked like the Trinity School’s records. 

“What’s this kid’s name, Pete?” 

“Uh-Steven Wescott,” Peter said, looking at his friend with shock. “Dude, I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you could break into stuff like this!” Ned shrugged, but a dusty pink appeared across his nose and cheeks. 

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal, really. All you need is practice, anyone can do it,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Peter scoffed, nudging his shoulder. 

“Seems pretty cool to me, Ned. Further proof that I have the smartest best friend in the world,” he grinned, his racing mind slowing down in the way that only a smile from his best friend could cause. Ned only got pinker, and turned back to the matter at hand. 

“Okay, let’s see...there are a couple of Stevens, but this is the only Wescott I see. Is this him? It says he’s a junior.” Ned pulled up the school image of the account he was looking at, and there he was. Peter looked at Skip’s photo and couldn’t help but feel a small spike of jealousy. Who managed to look good in their school ID photo? 

“Yeah, that’s him. He goes by Skip, though,” Peter said, staring at the photo as Ned looked at it like an art critique. 

“He’s cute, I guess, but he’s not really my type,” Ned finally said, giving Peter the laptop. “He’s got a ton of extracurriculars though, and a 3.81 average. Lowest grade in English, but if he’s going to MIT I bet that doesn’t matter.” Peter looked up at him in confusion. 

“Cute?” 

“Yeah,” Ned said casually, getting up and opening his trigonometry textbook. “Like, he’s cute, but white bread cute, y’know? Anyway, I prefer brunettes.” Peter didn’t say anything, his mind racing. 

He and Ned had never talked about crushes, or girls, or anything. Peter had been more than fine with that, especially when he realized that he thought the girl in his art class  _ and  _ the boy in his history study group were cute. It wasn’t that he thought Ned wouldn’t accept him, but if they started talking about stuff like this that would be a change. Soon they would be worrying about dates and texting and instagram likes, and well, he didn’t want that. He liked things how they were now. Plus, he already had enough to worry about-making sure he didn’t make a fool of himself when he came out was nowhere near the top of that list. 

“Peter? You do know that I’m gay, right?” Peter tried to grin, reaching for his own textbook. 

“Oh, well, yeah, of course, dude,” he lied, hoping that Ned wouldn’t realize it. But Ned always knew when he was lying. 

“Oh my god, seriously?” Ned rolled his eyes, grabbing some of the untouched candy from the candy pile. “I mean, I know I never came out, but I literally told you I would never, ever want to marry a girl and that I wanted to marry Dr. Banner like, last year!” 

“I thought you had like, a brain crush on him or something!” Peter exclaimed, the two of them looking at each other seriously before Ned’s lips quirked up, and they were both laughing again, as if his hurting his ankle and the conversation about Skip had never happened. 

“You’re so oblivious dude, seriously,” Ned said fondly, after they had both managed to stop giggling. 

“You’ve literally walked into your locker.”

“So have you!” Peter stole the piece of candy out of his friend’s hand in retaliation. “Hey!”

“Stop being rude, dude,” Peter said, shrugging his shoulders and starting on their first math problem. They worked diligently for an hour, both trying to get stuff done so that Ned wouldn’t lose his Wii time. It was only when Ned’s mom came in to tell them to pack up for dinner that Ned grabbed his hand. 

“Look, I mean, I know you’re you, and you're great, but I just-well, you’re okay, right? With me?” Peter looked at him, confused.

“With the whole gay thing?” Ned groaned.

“No, with the Star Trek being better than Star Wars thing, of course the gay thing!” Peter rolled his eyes, but pulled his friend in for a hug. 

“Dude, of course I’m okay with it. You’re you, and I love every part of you. Even the part of you that doesn’t realize Star Wars is infinitely better,” Peter joked, pulling back from the hug and shoving his phone in his pocket. 

“Okay, cool,” Ned grinned, but his eyes fell on Peter’s phone. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it any more, and that’s okay, I respect that. But you’re a cool guy, Peter. I still think it’s a little weird that a high schooler was reading over your shoulder, but there’s no reason why he wouldn’t want to be friends with you. You’re the best. You’re not going to mess things up. Just, let me know if you get anxious about it again, okay? I really don’t want you to hurt yourself Peter, accident or not.” 

“I’ll be okay, Ned. I promise. I’ll let you know if something is up, okay?” But Peter knew that just like with May and Ben, he wouldn’t say a word. He wouldn’t need to, anyway. 

Everything was going to be fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment??? If you feel comfortable! Also feel free to contact me privately about this fic, I understand the subject matter is difficult and privacy is important for folks!  
> (Also I don't own Marvel or any of its works. I wish.)


End file.
